******Summer Holidays, 1973*******
"I have to go, Peter. Remember, we've got tickets to the match tomorrow: Cannons vs. Magpies."
"Sounds great! Think the Cannons have a chance?" Peter said.
"I hope so. Their new seeker is supposed to be really good. Let's—"
"All just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best," they finished together. Richard laughed and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. "I may be a little late getting home today, but I'll make sure to get off early tomorrow afternoon."
"Sure Dad," Peter said, markedly less enthusiastic. In other words, something very important and vital to the safety of the entire world, wizarding and Muggle, will come up. Someday I'll be important, I'll be Minister of Magic or something, and he'll be sorry he didn't spend time with me.
"What's wrong?" Richard asked in a hurt tone.
"Err . . . nothing. I can't wait for the match."
"Same here. Do you think you'll go out for the Gryffindor team next year?" Richard asked awkwardly. As usual, he was having trouble conversing with his son. Having a family was very nice, and so were little children you could show off and then put down for a nap, but what in the name of Merlin were you supposed to do with them when they were home from school?
"Maybe," Peter lied. "James, y'know—my friend, is a Chaser."
"How nice," Richard said. He smiled broadly and ruffled his son's hair. Peter ducked his head and grimaced. Richard, turning away to gather his papers, didn't notice.
*****
"Peter! Could you please refrain from mussing up your robes until after the party?"
"Yes, Mum."
Ariane was, for once, enjoying herself. Somehow, a reconciliation of sorts had occurred over the past year. So Mum and Grandmother can tolerate each other. Is there some reason they can't visit while I'm at school? The one time staying with Grandmother isn't necessary, we go anyway. Richard, busy with increasing threats to the Ministry, was all too happy for his son and wife to spend the summer with his mother-in-law. Back to the present, Peter tugged on the collar of his dress robes and made a face at his reflection in the polished marble of the staircase.
"Selene!" Ariane had spotted one of her old school friends, and dragged Peter over to meet her.
Peter was towed around the room and introduced to half a dozen different people. A few children were there, but none near his age. Does Mum know anyone who wasn't in Slytherin? Of course, Grandmother did make the guest list. Having had enough of gossip, Peter retreated to the refreshment table, where he saw some guests closer to his own age.
Peter made an awkward attempt to make small talk with Lucius Malfoy, who was obviously still having difficulty with the idea that now he was out of Hogwarts, he couldn't strike fear into the hearts of lowly third years—scratch that, he could. Lucius Malfoy was scary. So scary, in fact, that Peter made a mental note to hide in the broom cupboard as soon as possible in the hopes of avoiding him.
"Err . . . what's it like working for the Ministry?"
"Marvellous," Lucius said in a bored voice.
"Your brother's head of your department, isn't he?"
Lucius glared at him. Please don't hurt me. Actually, just please don't hurt me much. With another glare, Lucius stalked off, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'the Dark Lord' and 'he won't be head much longer'. The aforementioned brother was lurking in a dark corner, which Peter was sure to give a wide berth. The house elves came from that corner, so the kitchens must be down those stairs. If I can just inch my way over there—
Peter bumped into someone. He fell backward, and looked up at tall man with dark eyes and messy black hair. "Mr Potter?" he said in disbelief. Why is he here?
He nodded, and offered his hand. Peter took it and was pulled to his feet. "You're one of Jamie's friends, aren't you? Sirius, is it? No . . . don't tell me. Peter!"
Peter nodded, and saw James himself coming up behind his father. "There you are! We just got here. I've been looking for you." I'm saved. This party won't be so bad after all. I wonder if he's met Lucius . . . What are the Potters doing here, anyway? It's kind of a Slyth reunion.
"Dad's scouting for the Catapults. We're staying in the area, so your Gran invited us."
"Wow. That must be fun." Lucky. I wish my dad did something interesting. Instead, he can't even make a Quidditch match.
"Not really. Dad says it's dangerous—there's lots of fouling and cursing, and general nasty stuff. Most of the time he won't let me watch, says he doesn't want an owl from Dumbledore telling him I came up with the seven hundred and first way to foul."
"Sounds more interesting than my summer."
"Have you found anything yet? About, you-know-what?"
Peter shook his head. "Are we expecting an instruction manual? I've taken a few notes, but I can't get anywhere near the library. We'll have more luck when school starts; we should be able to legitimately get into the Restricted Section for something next year. I'm sure Sirius could think of a reason."
James grinned, and the two began a conversation about their favourite subject: the effectiveness of the Porskoff Play vs. the Woollongong Shimmy. Quite a while later, it occurred to Peter that Maybe discussing next year's Quidditch strategy isn't such a good idea right here. They'll tell Lucius (wait, now that he graduated, who'll replace him as captain?) anyway, they'll know our plans and cheat. Great, I've ruined Gryffindor's chances . . . Everyone's ignoring us, though. They've made a big deal of saying hello to Mr Potter, but after that they've returned to their little circles. Weird.
"Come on dear, there's an old friend I want you to meet," Judith interrupted the discussion, which was rapidly turning into a heated argument. She gripped Peter's shoulder hard, and he was forced to come with her, though not without the last word:
"Any decent beater would block like that," He struggled and gestured violently, showing what was either a bludger intercepting the second chaser or a bad attempt at shadow puppets
Apparently Judith has decided to 'bond'. Why now? Can't she make cookies, or charm a jumper- something normal? Peter stood while she introduced him to another crowd of people, several of whom had been on holiday in France to see the Quidditch World Cup. If only they'd talk about that instead of the wonderful Muggle control there. The conversation turned to work, and then to their grandchildren. Peter's role throughout all of this seemed to be standing and looking adorable.
"Peter doesn't play Quidditch, though, of course, he could. He spends the time with his studies. He's one of the best students in his year."
"He's in Gryffindor, isn't he?"
"Yes, but . . . "
I've got it now. Grandmother's finally decided she can't pretend I don't exist, and might as well brag. Blood's thicker than water, and all that. Judith smiled at him, and Peter grimaced back. Get me out of here!
*****
It was another breakfast in the Rabnott household, though very different from a morning two years earlier. Ariane chatted happily; Judith admonished the houself ("I wanted toast—this bread isn't even warm!" "Nerry is very sorry, and will go shut ears in the oven.") and Peter read the paper. It was a cosy family scene, marred only by the barely audible shrieks of the houself.
"Richard is very happy with his new promotion. He's hoping we can get a decent house in London, so he doesn't have to commute. The latest Apparating regulations are ridiculous, don't you think?"
"Of course, dear. I remember the good old days when every wizard learned basic Memory Charms at Hogwarts. We never had to worry about Muggles. So what is Richard doing now?"
"Oh, something secret for the Ministry. It's rather dull, but we're not supposed to talk about it."
"Dad said that he's doing stuff for the Dark Force Defence League. He's working with their Potions Master to develop some sort of potion that forces the person to tell the truth."
Ariane frowned, and looked over her shoulder, as if expecting to see a Ministry official jump out from behind the drapes. Her eyes flicked over to the (empty) fireplace. I wonder what would happen if you used Floo Powder while wearing an Invisibility cloak, Peter thought- must get James to try it. "Peter, you know we aren't allowed to talk about Daddy's Secret Project. Why it would matter, I don't know, but we mustn't break the rules."
"Don't worry, who would I tell? What a ridiculous thing to keep secret," Judith said. Ariane laughed uneasily. "Anyway, I'm sure Richard is quite indispensable."
"I wish he were a little less important and could spend some more time with his family, but maybe after things slow down for the Aurors."
"Yeah, Dad's going to catch this super-evil wizard. He's really bad; he kills Muggles, and has this scary looking symbol- a snake and a skull."
"Super-evil wizard?" Judith echoed as if amused.
"Peter! Don't be so dramatic. I'm not going to let you read the Daily Prophet anymore if you keep talking like that." Ariane glanced nervously at her mother. Some awful things are going on, but I wish Peter didn't have to know it. He's still a child, and shouldn't have to think about all the disappearances and murders. He doesn't seem to realise just how bad things are. No purebloods have been touched yet, thank goodness. Richard's at the Ministry all the time, and Peter should be safe here. I can't imagine coming home to see the Mark, finding my son dead . . .
*******February, 1974 *******
"Animagi: the name given to a wizard who can change his form at will into that of an animal."
"Peter, hate to tell you this, but we know that." James looked up from the large volume he was perusing.
"Since we haven't found anything in the more advanced volumes, I thought it would be helpful to go back to the basics," Peter said timidly.
Sirius quit pretending to sleep and sighed deeply. "We've read through every book in both the potions and transfiguration sections, and some stuff from the Restricted Section. I don't think we're going to find anything. Anyone up for trying random spells on each other?"
"Well, what about the history section?" Peter said, walking up to the large shelves packed with books.
"Why not?" said James with determination. "Accio book." He caught the largest, most dusty volume and began to flip through the index.
Remus, who had given up on trying to talk Madam Pince into letting him into the Restricted Section, came over with a stack of books in his arms. "I think we've been through some of these before, but there's nothing else . . . how long are we going to keep this up?"
"We will not give up," James said a little too loudly. After a Look from Madam Pince, he said in his normal tone, "Peter's been dipping into the history section, and has found some stuff. We're going to read through the whole thing." At the thought of reading through histories (to him, a synonym for boring) Sirius groaned.
"You've tried. I appreciate it, but do you really think a couple of third years could do this?"
No. I've never thought we could do this. I think it's stupid. If we do find something, I bet it'll go wrong and I'll be forced to spend the rest of my life with a tail. Finally they're realising what a bloody stupid idea this was.
But Peter just nodded when James and Sirius began protesting violently. They were going to work hard; they were going to succeed. And even if they didn't (Peter added sheepishly) some of the information was sure to come up on their O.W.L.s.
James stood up abruptly. "I've got Quidditch practise, but you guys can keep working. Hopefully you'll have found something by dinner."
"Doubt it. But thanks to your wonderful pep talk, we'll keep plodding along. Remind me to recommend you for Quidditch captain after Meg McCormack leaves."
"Really? I will." James, smiling innocently, walked away, leaving his book bag and enormous and unruly pile of notes on the table. Oddly enough, he did remember to take his notebook filled with Quidditch strategies.
Remus, the long-suffering neat freak of the group, rolled his eyes and began to systematically stuff the materials into James' book-bag. They returned to searching through books, with little to show for it.
"The potion is purple." Sirius announced.
"What?" asked Peter and Remus incredulously.
"It's from the diary of Edmund Dorny, a wizard from the 16th century. He describes it, including what it tastes like. Have you ever had mead?"
Remus made a face. "How useful."
"But it is useful. If the potion isn't purple, we don't drink it. We slip it into Snape's pumpkin juice and wait to see what happens."
"And if it doesn't taste like a Bertie Botts bean for responsible consumers over the age of 21, not that I would know what they taste like . . . anyway, then the first unfortunate victim tells the others not to drink it?" said Peter.
"Exactly."
Remus quite forcefully plopped a book down in front of Sirius. "Could we try to get some work done. Please?"
"Laugh for once," Sirius said. "A few minutes of appreciating my unique style of studying won't make a big difference, Mooney."
"Mooney? Did you just call me Mooney? No, anything but that. I'll tolerate Remmie. I'll take Hairy, or . . .The Amazing Wolf Boy. Just NOT Mooney! Why do I get stuck with the awful nickname? It's not like Remus is much longer than James or Peter . . . have I ever even made a Serious joke?" Remus was now bright red and showing his adherence to a certain philosophy of life: if you can't do anything else, throw a fit.
Peter tried to stifle a giggle, while Sirius burst out laughing and nearly fell off his chair. Remus just looked furious in a very amusing way. Madam Pince finally had enough and threw them out, Sirius having to be supported by a very disgruntled Remus. As hard as Sirius tried to make TAWB catch on, Mooney it was.